Were Bishop Brendan Comiskey to be forgotten for everything else, his case will surely be recited to future generations in press and public relations schools as the model of how not to media manage a crisis. Amidst a welter of rumour and counter rumour he flees the diocese and the country in secret. His drinking problem, first denied, is then confirmed. Questions are raised over diocesan finances, his handling of sex abuse cases and his own lifestyle. A friend and adviser is found dead in a Wexford apartment. And those who are left behind You face the music on his behalf have no answers to give, no information on his plans, and no clear idea of his whereabouts.
In that failure to communicate adequately and to measure the right response to a hurt and bewildered laity, Bishop Comiskey followed the unhappy lead of not a few of his episcopal brethren. There can be no denying the disquiet, the resentment, the anger and the confusion which has ensued, particularly among his flock in the Diocese of Ferns but also generally throughout the Catholic Church in Ireland. Any visitor to Wexford will know this anecdotally. And a degree of corroboration has been provided by a poll published in a Wexford newspaper this week.
But failures of communications and a series of disastrous decisions taken in conditions of stress, together with the influence of alcohol, do not amount to a guilty verdict across the range of offences which has been intimated against the bishop. There are many questions which he has to answer. Why was there no action, or sufficiently swift action, in a number of sex abuse cases? Are the funds of the diocese capable of being shown to be in order? Are there satisfactory answers in respect of certain legacies and bequests? How has the bishop funded what has been portrayed as a lavish lifestyle, including trips to faraway, exotic locations?
The bishop has promised to answer these questions. They will certainly be put to him with vigour if he returns, as promised, over the coming days. He should know this he will not get away with vague, generalised replies and he will be expected to make himself available for full dialogue with the media, with his clergy in the diocese and, of course, with the people with whom he wishes to retain the relationship of spiritual pastor. It is important that he understands this clearly that he has not misjudged the public mood or been shielded from it by well meaning friends. When he answers the questions which will be put to him, then and only then will it be possible to make an informed and proper evaluation of his stewardship in the Diocese of Ferns.
There are some who want to see no more of Bishop Comiskey. But there are many others who await his return with an open minded preparedness to hear his side of the story. Should there not be room for at least one man among the Hierarchy who has the courage to acknowledge that he has met with demons, that he has fallen, that he has picked himself up and that he has the will to fight on? Is Christ's Church not, after all, a Church of sinners? Are there not enough plaster saints on parade? And would it not be refreshing for a member of the Hierarchy to be able to face his people and say "Yes we are less than perfect. And I know that in spite of those imperfections I still have to try to imitate Christ"?
Bishop Comiskey's decision to return to his diocese will take strength and courage. And he is entitled to a hearing both on the charges which have been levelled against him and on the pastoral course which he now hopes to follow. Unpleasant facts may be revealed. But he may also have a great deal to say that is valuable and important. He may be able to bear witness in a way that is unique, perhaps even giving contemporary embodiment to that most wonderful of the parables the Prodigal Son. Everyone should be entitled to a chance and to make their own case why not a bishop?